Sienna Dawn  Chapter One
by Charlie Connor
Summary: What happens when a young and vibrant Double O-Seven agent joins forces with the infamous legend?:  A clash of fire and ice.  Join Sienna Howard and James Bond as the two set out on a dangerously lethal case to unravel the secrets of the criminal world.


Hi!

This is my first chapter to a fanfiction I've more recently started. This will also be my first post on so I appreciate any comments or questions on my writing!

**CHAPTER 1 - DOUBLE O**

Sienna Howard gazed longingly out the heavily tinted Mercedes window, her eyes tracing across the tall cold buildings of the Moscow scenery. Inside, she felt small in comparison to the massive and intense city. But she knew better. She knew that out of everything in the entire sprawling city, she was one of the most dangerous things to creep amongst the area.

In the other seat next to her, a gruff looking man with a sideways grin named Carl Kipler held a folded envelope out to her. There was no question in her as she took the information packet and started unfolding her instructions. The car jostled side to side from the speeding driver.

"Fyodor?" Sienna said out loud after reading the instructions.

The letter inside the envelope had clear and precise instructions for her to follow. She was to exit the car with the duffle bag in the trunk. Walk the thirty paces to the nearest city restroom and change into the expensive evening gown that's supplied in the duffle, and of course she would have a 9mm handgun strapped to her thigh. After that she was supposed to go the the city hall theatre, where an invite-only political party would be taking place. Naturally, she had already been added on the list. Then, once she blended into the crowd of pompous talkers, she was to pair up with agent Fyodor, a Russian bloke, and then bring him in.

"Don't ask questions," Kipler guffawed at the young, fresh looking eighteen year old Double O agent that sat next to him.

Sienna thought about making some snarky comment in return, but she knew better than to challenge the Head of Station X. Another reason being was that Kipler was her father.

"Since when have we started bringing in our own kind?" Sienna eventually retorted, once again having forgotten where her true place lied as a Secret Agent of Britain.

"Since the bastard turned into a double agent for SMERSH," Kipler responded in a harsh voice and his tone made Sienna sink back a little in her seat.

The two had never had a bread and butter relationship. The minute Sienna was born to the revenge and power driven Head she was the first infant to be ever put into training since birth.

Sienna's face flushed in an angry red. She didn't know Fyodor very well, and had only one run-in with him a long time ago. But any agent doubling for the Russian nemesis of SMERSH; the organization set to destroy agents around the world, was something much lower than dirt and hell itself.

The Mercedes slid to a halt, and with a quick reach Sienna had the duffle bag from the trunk in her lap. Casually, to avoid suspicion, she exited the vehicle with a blank yet moldable face.

"Give me two hours," she said as she was just about to slam the car door shut.

Kipler interrupted her before she could get away from him, "Why so long?" he asked in his usually grouchy voice.

A smug smile creeped across her defined and desirable face, "It's a party. I might as well have a little fun, right Daddy?"

And with that, she slammed the door shut, her last two words ringing as a harsh pun.

Sienna quickly mingled in with the Russian crowd, though her softer English features and overall demeanor did set her apart from the dusk mob a little. She easily covered the thirty paces with her long thin stride, and when she was able to occupy the handicap stall for dressing, she was stripped and pulling on the raspberry sequin floor gown in a matter of seconds. Makeup and hair wasn't an issue for her. Some quick eyeliner and mascara made her green eyes look like emerald jewels glistening like capping oceans. Her hair was even easier. After taking it out up the uptight hair band, her dark brown locks fell gently over her chest and back. She was all set.

In just a matter of minutes, the glamourous agent is already accepted into the security crawling claws of the private party. Hundreds of others swarmed around her in their tens of thousands of dollars worth dresses, but with her demanding and bright impression, Sienna became the instant spotlight looker. Every man whose female partner wasn't looking had their eyes glued to Sienna's figure and extremely low cut dress.

"You look absolutely stunning, milady," a young waiter with an extremely thick accent doted openly upon her royal worthy beauty.

But Howard's eyes had already found their target. The tall and somewhat thin Fyodor a few yards off pranced into a circle of suited business looking men who appeared to be having a serious conversation.

"Hello, there," She chimed in while butting her frame into the circle up against Fyodor.

Fyodor's face flashed from a cheeky pink to ghostly white in about point two seconds when he saw the threatening agent come right up next to him. The other men in the circle only gaped and awed at her gleaming smile and beauty. Howard could hear Fyodor swallow hard next to her.

"Fyodor my boy!" One of the older men cooed loudly while he gutted his protruding waistcoat out in from of him, "Who is this lovely girl?"

Pretending to be a bashful doe, Howard pulled herself closer to Fyodor and placed her thin long fingers seductively against his chest, "I'm surprised he hasn't even introduced me yet." She played softly, batting her eyelashes a little.

The men in the circle all chuckled in their lustful manner. They were in the exact position Howard wanted them in. Impressed and wanting and jealous.

"Oh please, Fyodor," She cried while suddenly seeming impatient, "I really would love to dance before my feet start to ache in these painful heels."

Up until the point, Fyodor was a complete stiff without any drop of emotion on his face. He knew that he had been caught, and that he wasn't prepared to deal with an assassin on his hands - or on his arm. But, to Howard's impeccable persuasion skills, he decided that his life might continue on a little longer if he played the game.

"Of course, my Margaret," he said responsively, using one of the many cover names Howard owned.

The two of them strutted arm in arm down the isle of the great hall way, and then down the few golden steps that led to the ballroom. A classic and vigorous tune from the live orchestra had just started, and the dance floor was open.

Fyodor wrapped his strong arm around her waist and she tilted backwards into a bend with all her weight featherlessly being supported by him. With a click in the music, the two start dancing effortless. The atmosphere of the entire hall suddenly turned hot and passionate. All attention was bent on the two spirited dancers.

"So," Fyodor said right before throwing Howard into an airy spin and catching her by the waist, "Who ratted me out?"

"Do you think I'd really know that?" she answered while she continued with the vigorous dance, her body swaying like a flower stem caught in a wispy breeze, "And do you think I'd really tell scum like you?"

Fyodor grabbed the back of her neck harshly, but the aggressive move in concealed by a dance number of pressing her head closer to him in a passionate fashion, "I could kill you right now, you know that?"

But he didn't kill her and she was certainly having too much fun toying with him to send him to the final tunnel. Throughout the entire duration of the song, the couple moved across the floor in a sultry manner. Their dance turned from a soft springy feel to ice cold darkness and whipping fire. At the last elongated note by the violin, Fyodor put her back into another graceful bend while she brought her right bare leg out through the slit of her dress and hitched it up around his waist. Fyodor felt the hot skin of her leg until his groping fingers met the the 9mm handgun that was strapped around her thigh. Howard only smirked at his somewhat tricked and betrayed expression that could be found on any man who had the slightest inkling of maybe having a chance with such a gem.

For a few seconds, the crowed was struck by the pure intensity of the two's performance and made not a sound. But one thunderous person started clapping straight at the finish of the dance. Howard tilted her head to the side to catch glimpse of who the first admirer was, but much to her surprise she found it wasn't an average partier. It was him.

It was James Bond.


End file.
